As Long As It May Take
by EveNee
Summary: Not to reveal too much, John gives off hints to Finch, who is blindly ignoring them. Rinch. Life gave me so many LEMONs. IC and pleasing. ;


So, a cold winter day after an unrelated number I made up :D. Maybe my next one will tie in with a number… I'm feeling the Jordan Hester one. Look forward to it!

Rinch. Contains an obviously top John. I respect opinions but… I could never ever see Finch topping John. Really.

Not particularly associated to a story but post Reese getting shot and nearly killed.

The sky was dark and filling with gray clouds. Heavy footsteps limped down the sidewalk towards the secret library. The man in the suit shrugged along with his hand to his left shoulder and a slight stumble every few steps. The dark red of his blood streaked down the untucked dress shirt and left a small trail of droplets behind him. His figure slumped against the building just at the corner of the block the library was on. His head craned around the corner and he tripped into the cone of light just as the street lights flicked on.

The gray clouds canvased the sky and small specks of white fluttered down and began to blanket the empty streets. The trail of blood was soon covered by the pure blanket. Piles of the fragile flakes laid along the slumped shoulders of the man limping down the street. He turned down an alley and closed his eyes to the darkness. His body dragged along the wall until he found the door to the stairs. He managed to drag his body up the flights and across a hall over the alley and every which way until he arrived at a door at the end of a hall. The stub of his dress shoe tapped against it as his body used the oak door as support for his weight.

From inside, there was an off stepping sound- Finch. The sound stopped as if it were hesitating about the visitor. The man in the suit slumped his head against the door and called in a raspy whisper, "Harold, open the door."

The off step hurried up again until it was at the door. A series of sliding locks and key locks turned. The doorknob turned and it slid open. The shorter man fixed his glasses to get a look at the man at his door. His jaw nearly dropped as the suit fell into his arms. Finch leaned back against the wall to support the man bleeding on his recently cleaned floor.

"Mr. Reese, what happened?" The reclusive man took to holding his employee up against his feeble body. He managed to kick the door shut with his free leg. The mass of key locks clicked back into locked position as the door shut. Finch mustered up his strength and nearly dragged the limping suit down the hall past the unused rooms and into the main room with the computer. John was set down in the swivel chair to which he eased his body to its shape and let his head loll back off it. Finch found the bag he kept for medical supplies near the door to his room adjacent to the computer's room. He lugged the bag to John and settled on his knees. John pulled his head up to see the man kneeling before him.

"I messed up," he called in that same whisper while reaching his hand out to brush the short ruffles of the recluse's hair. The man flinched away from the contact. John made a dissatisfied sound at his employer's reaction. His hand fell to his leg and balled into as tight a fist as he could manage.

"Let me see your wounds." Finch unzipped the supply bag and pulled out a few things, disinfectant, bandages, minor painkillers, and a pair of white gloves. Each glove gave a snap on his wrists. John growled under his breath while readjusting himself in the chair and moving his shoulders to get his jacket off. The chilled fabric rubbed aggressively against the raw skin of his cuts on his left shoulder. Finch reached up to assist. His fingertips ran down the front of the bloodied dress shirt and popped the buttons still attached undone. The worn eyes hesitated on the patches of tan skin that were carved into muscle. His fingers found the small patch just below the last button of the shirt that was undamaged. Off beside the gash above, he could make out the mark from the bullet wound that had just healed. John's stomach heaved with a sharp breath. The gentle touch of his employer was new and certainly to his surprise.

"Mr. Reese, what on earth did you do to yourself?" Finch averted his gaze from the trained body as he removed the last of the clothing from his upper body. John looked like a king sitting idly on his throne, only his head had fallen to the side and his eyes were glazed by the pain. Finch had to pull his gaze back again. With more focus, he began to inspect the wounded body. By touch and sight, he began mapping the toned body. He found many little nicks and scratches. There were two large wounds. One was just above his navel, the other curved around his left shoulder and dipped onto his chest. There was a bit of blood coming from the gash on his lip as well. Finch finished his upper body inspection by having John sit forward a bit to look at his back. The damage from behind was minimal, but the two deep wounds were bleeding profusely down his skin. Finch looked up to the paled face for an answer.

With a sigh, John replied, "He pulled a knife on her and the only way to keep her safe was to be her shield. Did I worry you?"

Finch turned his attention to the large wounds first. He applied disinfectant to a pad and wiped it along the gash lining his shoulder gently. John's fingers curled around the ends of the arm rests until they turned white. He let out a hiss and his head fell forward.

"But of course. Our connection was cut. I'm glad you're safe." Finch kept to cleaning the other large wound and then the small ones. He found time to wipe the blood from his lower lip and brush a balm over it. John mumbled Finch's last sentence back to him while slightly pulling his head up. Finch paused and pulled back to see John without having to strain his neck.

"Harold," John hissed while grabbing the man's wrist and tugging it from his skin. Finch soon realized he was pressing into the wound with his fingers during his daze into the icy blue eyes. John's hand dropped, setting Finch's just above his right knee. He guided the hand a bit higher until Finch started to pull away. Then, he felt a small divot in the skin.

"And you walked here?" Finch more exclaimed than asked. His hands quickly made for the buckle to John's belt. The simple mechanism was undone in a sloppy manner. The button to the slacks proved almost as difficult to the rigid, shaking hands. He managed, though, and gave it a tug until John moved to have the fabric removed. His employee groaned in pain as his stomach crunched while lifting his body to wiggle the pants from his hips. The slacks were tossed aside by the shirt and jacket. The tan skin was left bare to the simple, black boxers.

Finch pulled his hands up the trembling thigh and examined the near hole in the muscle. His hands moved to the bag but his eyes stayed put. He pulled out a few small strip bandages to close the wound after he splashed a bit of disinfectant over it. The wound was deep, but it would heal unless something was torn. Finch pulled a small tube out of the bag and moved the contents around a bit before opening it. He spread a dab of the contents on the gash as gently as he could. After the white ointment turned clear, a cool sensation ran over John's body. The gash was wrapped in a layer of gauze and then bandages.

John let out a heavy sigh as his leg rested easily on the chair all bandaged.

"You seem surprised, Harold. This is a rather common happening..." he gave a pause as the work resumed on his upper body, then continued, "I wasn't sure if I would make it back to you." Finch froze his work a second then resumed. His mind worked over the use of his reference instead of to his house or the library.

"I didn't hire you because you were incompetent. You handle things very well." Finch avoided to reference to himself, which John knew he noticed but avoided with the small compliment.

"I couldn't handle not seeing you again." John put both hands in the ruffles of hair level with his abdomen and pulled his employer easily to eye level. By now, his leg was wrapped as well as a few small strips bandages over each of the two large gashes. He nearly resembled train tracks. The pain was vanishing with the strange ointment Finch rubbed on before applying the bandages.

Finch turned his face away and reset his glasses. He began to gather the unused supplies up back into the bag and pushed it under his desk. He kept out a roll of bandages and turned back to wrap the lower abdomen and upper arm. John made a soft sound under his breath as he leaned back into his chair. His hand came to rest on the bridge of his nose while he rubbed the corner of his eyes. Moments passed in silence while he was wrapped ever so carefully by the shaking hands.

Finch managed to get up and leaned on his left leg with a sigh after he finished. Then, his face seemed to curl up in pain. His hand rubbed just below his hip with a pain laced sigh. John pulled his head up.

"I'm fine, Mr. Reese. I was supposed to take my medicine, but I forgot while searching for you." His body hobbled from the desk over to the door to his room. He managed to get the door undone while leaning on it and vanished into the darkness. He returned moments later with a few small white pills cupped in his hand.

His hobble brought him back to where John was seated. John let his slitted eyes follow the man as he walked. His off step was something rather unique and cute. He didn't stumble but looked as if half of his body was unable to bend. He looked a little fragile. The way he kept his posture erect to keep pain from his neck was something you wouldn't notice either unless you looked for it. Even in pain, his face only showed it for a second then concealed it quite well.

Finch put his weight on the edge of the desk while opening a bottle of spring water. He took a swig then dropped the pills into his mouth. It looked rather painful to swallow them with the inability to tilt his head back. With a sigh he turned back to see John slumped in the chair with his piercing, narrow gaze set on him.

It looked as if John were trying to pull out the answers to his many questions by staring at him. Before he could tell him to knock it off, the wounded man spoke up.

"Can I stay here tonight?" He looked still a slight bit in pain but dealing.

"Mr. Reese, tell me what hurts?" Finch stared back at the man until he averted his blue eyes to his lap. He stayed silent. He couldn't lie if he didn't speak.

"Mr. Reese?"

John sighed and pressed his hand over his heart. The recluse looked puzzled at best. Then, his chest began to throb and he gave it a generous pat. He knew this feeling, but it was old and hard to recall. Finch looked up from his chest to John. He had that genuine smile on his face that he rarely used. It was much different than his smirk when he had a devious plan. His brows arched down and his checks lifted in a subtle almost absent way. The soft blue of his worn eyes were almost covered by his lashes. The sore body pushed forward on the chair until he was sitting before his employer. His hand reached from his chest and grabbed the hand Finch pressed to his heart. He guided it down to his chest just above his own heart. The hand pressed to his chest jerked to get away but he used a bit of his force to keep the contact. Beneath the skilled fingertips were the loud, hard thumps of John's heart against the wall of his chest.

Finch still looked puzzled. He shook his head and pulled free. John inhaled deeply and fell back in the chair.

"I can wait for you. As long as it may be." John ran his hand back through his hair and kept his eyes on the floor.

"Mr. Reese, I am very personal. I insist you stop this-" John stood from the chair and cut Finch off with a kiss. His hand pressed to the small of his back and the nape of his neck to hold his head in place. The contact was subtle and light. When John pulled back, he rested their foreheads together with a silent sigh like something were lifted from his shoulders. The blue orbs opened slightly, putting John in a bit of shock.

The mixed reds painted across Finch's face gave a certain glow to him.

"Harold?" He brought a hand to cup Finch's face and level their eyes.

Finch's lower lip quivered and he tried to move away. John held firm by moving his arm around the round waist. He nuzzled his head into the stiff neck.

"Don't tease me, Mr. Reese." Finch gave up trying to push John away and held his arms by his sides.

"Who said I was teasing?" John kissed his neck. The slight contact made Finch shiver. Then, a bit of hope appeared when a soft moan was pressed into his ear. Finch wound his arms tightly and John's shoulders and pressed his lips to his employee's ear in an attempt to stifle the sound.

"I always wondered where you were sensitive. Just tell me to leave, and I will. Say you don't want this." John bit into the exposed neck and pressed his hands to the small of the others back. The arms around his shoulders tightened and the hands coiled in his hair. John nudged his head against Finch's to coerce an answer.

"Stay..." Finch hid his face in John's neck.

"How could I say no?" John chuckled.

Finch shifted against the toned wall of a body before him. He pulled his face away and gave John a coy look that was very unlike him. John moved his hands up to pull the glasses off and set them by the computer. His next kiss made Finch whine under his breath and finally return the gesture. John lapped his tongue along the line of lips until they openly welcomed him. He played in the wet cavern and danced with Finch's tongue. To his surprise, the recluse moved his tongue in ways he least anticipated.

"Well, that wasn't what I expected, Harold." John bent his head to plant small kisses on the parted lips that he then trailed down his chin and jugular to the first button of his dress shirt.

"I'm no virgin, Mr. Reese. Give me some benefit of the doubt." Finch pulled on John's hair as he got down and started to undo the vest and dress shirt. He untucked the shirt and worked the belt off.

"You never tell me things, Harold. Can we take this to your room?" He hooked his thumbs in the waist of the slacks and rose to his feet again. He kneaded the hips gently, taking special notice of the right one. He could feel a scar around the bone and traced it. Finch frowned at the attention his scar was getting.

"I hardly mind. I find every part of you... For a lack of better words, alluring." John offered that devious smile.

Finch took a step back while grabbing one of the calloused hands and pulled John towards his room. The wounded man followed until they entered the box of darkness. There were no windows and only a single, unlit lamp. It was rather big, large enough for the bed to be in the center of the wall and perpendicular to it. There was space in front of it as well which let to a row of shelves holding, presumably Finch's favorite books. There was a wooden chair by the shelves that looked handmade- for his neck. It was quaint.

John was led forward until his knees bumped a bed. He could hardly see in this darkness, even with his trained sight. Thankfully, the large window by the computer cast a stream of light through that room and onto the large bed. His weight moved the bed to a creak. The mattress was very plush and supportive, perfect for Finch. He carefully pushed his body back to the middle of the sea of comfort. The large pillow spanning across the top was braced against the wall for him to lean against. Comfortable, he patted the bed for Finch. He could hear the shuffling of clothes as Finch undressed himself in the safety of the darkness. The fabric hit the floor and the weight of the bed shifted. John looked for him through the darkness. He could make out a silhouette at the end of the bed, sitting and leaning to on its left arm. John moved down the bed and slid up behind the figure.

"Does it hurt?" His fingers ran down the exposed back and around the right hip. He gave it a gentle rub.

Finch gave a casual 'hmm' while he thought. "No. It's been a while, let alone with a man..." Finch looked over to shoulder to John.

"I'll do everything." John held his hand out for Finch to grab. He helped him to the head of the bed and eased him down on his back. He seemed to relax from his constant pain into the plush mattress and blankets. John straddled over him and started with a kiss. It was casual and gentle. He nipped and licked at the supple lips while letting his hands venture the new body. He found the perk nipples first and gave each a slight tweak. Finch shuddered. John did it again. Same reaction. He curved a smile through the kiss.

"Don't tease me Mr. -" John pressed a finger to his lips.

"John. Call me John." He resumed working the chocolate nubs until Finch moaned, "John."

John pressed his lips just below his hands and followed the curved path down to the navel then lower.

"You're hard," he gave a wicked smile and pressed his left leg up to the exposed erection. He groaned himself as his straining member brushed against the front of his boxers. He couldn't help but utilize one of his hands for himself. The waist of his boxers slipped down low on his hips and he gripped himself to lessen the tension. He returned the rest of his attention to Finch's wanting body.

His body moved in a certain way above Finch, and the recluse noticed it. He was elegant, as if dancing at a ball, and gentle, unlike his nature. It was flawless and made Finch curious about others who had experienced this, who had the pleasure to see him so personally as he was now. He lost focus when the trained wet mouth touched his right hip and made light patterns across it in kisses. The kisses trailed off towards the center. Slowly, they curved around the dripping head and slid to the base in a single tilt of his head. Fingers curled in the blankets and nearly tore them as a fiery sensation swarmed the stiff body. The legs spread almost instinctively to accommodate the body lying between them. Despite the pain swelling on his right side, Finch panted in pleasure as he was devoured by the hot, wet mouth.

"John, please," he nearly begged. His body jerked deeper into the mouth to which John loosened his jaw and took him willingly. The lips slid from his length followed by a few wide laps by the soft tongue against the head. All the more making Finch tremble.

"Harold, it would be best if you had a day off tomorrow." John took the left leg up in his hand and slowly bent it over his wounded should. His free hand released his strained member and slipped a few fingers into his mouth. Lap after lap he slickened them. Finch watched as the hand vanished between his legs.

He dared to ask, "Why would you say that? And your shoulder..."

"Either my pain or yours. I'll always pick mine." He kissed the knee positioned on his right shoulder.

"You know it's not easy to work with a sore body. And you won't be leaving bed, I promise." He had that grin.

Before Finch could protest with his employee's plans, he was stifled by a prodding finger. It pressed to the tight ring of muscle and rubbed it generously to get it relaxed. With a tilt of the wrist, it wiggled against the ring until it slid a section of the way in. Tight, nearly pulsing, Finch's body tormented John's already strained member. The finger pressed deeper, sliding out to the tip then back to loosen the path. All the while, Finch was gasping a bit at the new feel. It was intrusive, the most extreme kind of it, and he didn't expect it. He felt to call John to stop, but the digit moved deeper and curled and twisted, rubbing against a spot deep inside of him that made his blood boil. His back gave a slight arch and John's name escaped his throat in a strained call.

John responded by working the spot relentlessly with a second digit. His body bent to reach the supple lips for another kiss. He planned to milk Finch for all of his love. The pain shooting through his shoulder was nothing compared to the pleasure coursing through his veins. His fingers withdrew and gave the ring a little rub.

"Tell me so stop now. I won't be able to after I start," John panted into the kiss. Finch replied by pressing a deep kiss on the cut lips and smothering his hands in the disheveled hair. John let out a small growl and angled his hips to Finch's. He bent as low at he could to keep from having Finch to move his hips. The prominent hips rolled forward, nudging the slick entrance. The kiss parted with a sharp inhale. Finch quivered and held tightly to the man above him. John pressed consoling words to his ear.

"Call my name if you get scared." He smiled and licked along the reddened shell.

"Don't be absurd- ah, John!" Finch cried out as John lifted his hips and pushed as hard as he could.

"I'm not sure if I was clear. I _want_ to hear you call my name." He rocked into the tight heat until he felt the tensed thigh press to his wounded stomach.

Finch buried his face into the exposed neck and moaned the name over and over. He could barely comprehend the feeling of John moving inside him, deeper, faster, yet at with a bit of caution to his neck and right side. John hardly gave a care for his own wounds. This day was too high a victory to give up.

"Wait- John," Finch panted into the crook of the others neck. Despite his earlier promise to not stop after he started, John slowed as he pressed to the clenched ass. His head pulled back with glazed eyes and heavy pants. He bent his neck for a second to place a gentle kiss that asked, "Am I hurting you?"

Finch stared into the gorgeous blue eyes and pressed his hands to the toned chest. John, with a groan, pulled from the succulent body and hovered above his precious lover. Finch made a motion with his hand, indicating he lay on his back. John gave him a puzzled look but obeyed. His body rolled from it's perch and laid beside the recluse. The bed shifted and John felt the weight above him. A groan of pain resonated in the musky air of the room. The callouses hands found the hips straddled above his waist in seconds. He gave the right one a gently rub.

"Did that hurt?"

"Just the movement." Finch took a deep breath and ran his hands across the toned skin. His found the dip of his hips then the curve between his thighs, to which he followed. His body moved up a few inches before raising up above the straining erection John was left with. One of his hands took a hold at the base and gave a subtle squeeze and jerk while the other planted itself in the space above the gash across the abdomen. His body lowered onto the member. John lifted his knees and rolled his hips into the tight heat. His heels dug into the mattress and bunched up the blankets. He kept his right hand to the left hip and wrapped the other around the neglected member bobbing before him. Finch whined as John teased his front. He could hardly focus on his own movements along John's length let alone the wave of pleasure brought on by John's skilled touch.

He kept up to pace with John, meeting him at each thrust and clenching his muscles as the throbbing length slid out. Each movement was blissful. John would occasionally pull to the head and drive back to the hilt. It drove Finch to nearly yelling his name. His body shuddered and clenched and he slumped forward with a fleeting moan.

John bent up on his elbows to hold the man as he spilled out on his bandaged stomach. He gave a few thrusts until his endurance crashed and he threw his head back with the wildest groan that vibrated up his throat. They fell to the bed panting, Finch's head on the unwounded shoulder and his hands pressed to his chest between them. The strong arms wound around the shaking body and pulled it ever so close while withdrawing slowly. He laid lax with the man in his arms. He could feel the small string of his seed dripping down on the leg Finch straddled. The mess of dark hair nuzzled against the brown locks with a silent laugh that only shook their joined bodies a bit. A kiss was lost in the sea of messy shades of brown.

"Harold," he cooed softly in his rugged whisper. The man atop him shifted and gave a soft 'hmm?'

John made a gesture towards the main room with the computer. "A shower would be nice."

Finch gave a soft sigh and noted the one down the hall past the computer. John adjusted his bandaged limbs to help his weary friend to his feet. Upon standing, Finch quivered on his knees and had to lean for support. John couldn't help but smile. He laid his boss down and made his way out of the room. When he returned, he washed down Finch's body with a wet cloth and then his own stomach with another. The recluse found his way under the disheveled covers and awaited John's second return from the bath. The wounded man slid in beside him and pressed to his back. His arm slung over Finch's side and curled into a fist with the open hand Finch offered. With almost a purr, John curled closer.

"I never took you for the cuddling type." Harold inched back to push their bare bodies as close as they could go.

"I assume you might break if I don't let you rest. Tell me when-" The prominent hips pressed to his rear with a subtle grind. John gave that devious smile into the back of Finch's neck before rolling over atop him.

A bright ray of light reflecting off the pure snow building at the window show across the entire bed. Their bodies seemed to melt into one with each perfected movement. The moon hid behind the stormy clouds and it fell dark. Even the wind drew silent. Faintly, a pained yet released call of a bird was heard singing the same line over and over.

"John."

Fin

How lovely was that? :]


End file.
